Hot on His Trail, page 20
She held out her hand. “Just remember, cowboy, you’re not here alone.”
Reaching over to take it, Matt wondered how he’d gotten so damn lucky. The answer was simple: Violet Mitchum. If she hadn’t named him in her will, Calley never would have tracked him down. So despite his reluctance, he’d show his appreciation by paying his respects to the woman who had once been like a mother to him.
Calley leaned back against the headrest. “I called Deb this morning while you were in the shower and told her the wedding was back on.”
“I still don’t believe you’ll ever get that woman into a bridesmaid dress.”
“You won’t believe what she told me about Rufus Tupper, either.”
Matt glanced at her, noting the mischievous gleam in her eyes. “What?”
“Rufus went on a three-day drinking binge to celebrate his win. Only he must have gloated one too many times, because his buddy Lester Hobbs shot him in the leg.”
“I know I shouldn’t say so, but it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Matt said, grinning.
“Wait, it gets even better. When Hobbs got charged with assault, he copped a plea by turning over evidence of tax fraud on Rufus.”
“So nobody wins,” Matt said, turning into the long gravel drive that led to the large Victorian house he had once called home.
“Nobody except us.” Calley squeezed his hand, then looked out the front window. “Is this it?”
He nodded, looking up at the familiar light-blue house with white trim and white latticework on the peaks. Except for a new extension on the wraparound porch, it looked exactly as it had before the fire. “Charles built this place for Violet in the fifties. He wanted her to feel like a queen.”
A fleet of vehicles was already parked in the circular driveway. Matt positioned the pickup behind a black Lexus, then switched off the engine.
“Ready?” Calley asked.
He turned to her. “Not until I get that kiss.”
She obliged, cradling his jaw with her hand as her mouth melded against his own. His body tightened and he wondered if his desire for her would ever be sated. At last she lifted her head and smiled at him.
He smiled back. “Now I’m ready for anything.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DYLAN GARRETT waited in the library while the people gathering for Violet’s memorial service slowly wandered inside. It was Violet’s favorite room. Fully stocked bookcases with her beloved romance novels lined the walls and a grand piano graced one corner.
When he spotted Matt Radcliffe entering with Calley Graham at his side, Dylan grabbed the bulky sealed envelope he’d brought with him and walked over to them.
“Glad you could make it,” Dylan said, holding out his hand.
Matt shook it, his grip firm, but his gaze wandering around the room. “It’s been a long time since I’ve stood in this house. It brings back a lot of memories.”
“Violet wanted you to have this,” Dylan said, handing him the envelope.
“What is it?” Matt asked.
“The ring she bequeathed to you, along with a letter.”
Calley looked up at Matt. “Do you want to open it now?”
“Later.” Matt took the package. “After the service.”
Dylan nodded, then walked to the front of the room. Everyone had arrived and was now finding seats among the three rows of folding chairs set up in the center of the library. Sara Pierce and her fiancé, Justin Dale, sat in the front. Next to them were Jillian Salvini Peterson, her husband, Mark, and their son, Drew. Stella Richards, owner of the Blue Moon Café, sat in the second row next to John Carpenter and his daughters. Matt and Calley took their seats in the third row along with Mary Barrett and Stuart Randolph.
He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon. We’re gathered here to celebrate the life of a truly remarkable woman, Violet Mitchum. She was the beloved wife of the late Charles Mitchum, and a friend, confidante and advisor to countless others. That’s why it’s no surprise that she left the bulk of her estate to start a foundation to help people in need. Each of her beneficiaries will receive a generous monetary bequest, along with a sentimental gift. Because she specifically requested that the eight beneficiaries named in her will be here today, in lieu of a eulogy, I think each of us should share how Violet came into our lives.” He smiled. “And since it was my idea, I’ll go first.”
Scanning the faces in front of him, he noted that Matt Radcliffe was the only one who looked slightly uncomfortable with his suggestion. The man obviously didn’t want to be here, which only made Dylan more impressed with Calley Graham’s persuasive skills.
“I met Violet four years ago when a friend and I went on a fishing trip and our car broke down just outside of Pinto,” Dylan began. “The first house we saw looked like it belonged in London instead of the Texas prairie.” He smiled. “And there was Violet waving to us from the front porch. When we explained our predicament, she generously offered to let us stay with her until the repairs were done.”
He took a deep breath. “My mother had recently passed away, and I was still feeling guilty for not being there to say goodbye. When Violet told me how much she loved horses, I found myself telling her how my mother had taught me to ride. And how much I had loved her.”
Dylan saw Sara wipe a tear from her eye, shaking his own vow to hold his emotions in check. “Violet and I went riding that day, although she’d been too frail to ride for years. I held her in front of me while we rode across the prairie.” He swallowed hard. “It was as if I were given a second chance to tell my mother thank-you and goodbye. Violet’s bequest to me was that horse. But she gave me so much more.”
Dylan sat down abruptly, his throat too tight to continue.
Jillian stood up and gave them all a watery smile as she pointed to the piano. “That’s my gift from Violet, and it’s being moved to my new home next week. She not only encouraged my music, but my dream to study interior design.” Jillian turned to gaze at her husband and son. “She taught me that dreams really can come true.”
Stuart Randolph, the grandson of the man who lent Charles the equipment to dig his first oil well, received the first dollar Charles Mitchum ever made. He spoke of Violet’s compassion for those less fortunate.
John Carpenter choked up as he related the many hours he and Violet had spent in the stable, where he tended her precious horses. A devout man, he treasured the family bible she’d left him.
Stella Richards fingered the beautiful sapphire necklace Violet had left her and told of the meals she’d sent from the Blue Moon Café when Violet was too ill to cook for herself. And how she’d been repaid ten times over by Violet’s steadfast friendship and confidence in her.
Mary Barrett, who was well into her eighties, cherished the writing desk Violet had left her and told how much she missed her friend and the long letters they used to share.
Then Sara Pierce stood up, not bothering to check the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Violet literally saved my life. She gave me advice when I needed it most. But more important, she made me understand that real love transcends fear and guilt and betrayal. That to have faith in someone else, you must have faith in yourself first.”
Sara held up a packet of yellowed envelopes tied with a faded pink ribbon. “Violet left me the love letters she and her husband Charles sent to one another throughout their courtship and marriage. And in them I’ve found proof that true love really can survive anything.”
When Sara sat down, Justin’s arm went around her shoulders, pulling her close. Silence descended over the room and for several long moments the only sound was the loud ticking of the grandmother clock on the wall. Then the last beneficiary slowly rose to his feet.
Matt Radcliffe.
* * *
MATT’S GAZE scanned the faces turned expectantly toward him. These were people Violet had loved. And their fond memories of her had helped him remember all the good times he’d shared with her. Times that definitely overshadowed their last painful day together.
He looked down at Calley, who gave him an encouraging smile. Then he opened up his heart. “I grew up in this house, the son of the Mitchums’ housekeeper. But neither Violet nor Charles ever treated me like a servant. Especially Violet. She took me to the circus when I was five. Held me on her lap when the clowns frightened me. And gave me a pony of my own for my seventh birthday.”
With each word Matt spoke, a little of the bitterness faded away. “When I was ten, the class bully gave me a black eye and a bloody nose. As soon as she saw me, Violet picked up the phone and called her husband, who was over one hundred miles away overseeing the drilling of a new well. She told him there was an emergency and he had to come straight home.”
He smiled at the memory. “You should have seen Charles Mitchum’s face when he found out the emergency was teaching me how to fight. But he did it anyway. Violet had rummaged through the dusty attic and found an old pair of boxing gloves for me to wear. I guess I’ll never know if it was the boxing lessons or a secret telephone call from Violet, but Johnny Ray never bothered me again.
“Violet gave me so many gifts when I was growing up that I could never remember them all. But I do remember the most important one. She taught me to respect myself and to be proud of who I am.” He glanced at Calley, moved by the tears he saw gleaming in her beautiful blue eyes. “And she taught me something else, too. Real love never ends.”
But Matt knew he couldn’t stop there. It was time he lived up to Violet’s faith in him. Time he took responsibility for his part in their estrangement. “I wish I could say I never let Violet down, but that wouldn’t be true. When I was twelve years old, I accidentally started a fire that destroyed part of the house she adored.”
He hesitated a moment, letting that information sink in. Several of the beneficiaries glanced at each other and he heard a few furtive whispers. Sara Pierce stared up at Matt, her brow furrowed.
“It’s too late to make it up to her now,” he continued. “But I know that Violet found a way to forgive me. Because she just didn’t have room in her generous heart for anger or bitterness.” Then he sat down and reached for Calley’s hand, drawing on her strength and love.
Dylan rose to make one last announcement. “According to Violet’s wishes, we’re to spend the afternoon riding her prized horses, then proceed to Stella’s Blue Moon Café for some of the best barbecue in Texas.”
As the rest of the guests slowly filed out of the room, Calley wrapped her arms around Matt and squeezed him tight. “Have I mentioned lately that I’m crazy in love with you?”
Matt glanced at his watch. “Not for at least an hour.”
“Well, then let me make up for lost time.” She leaned over to kiss him, then pulled back, her gaze fixed over his shoulder.
Matt turned to see Sara Pierce standing there with Justin Dale. John Carpenter stood close behind them.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but John and I talked about it and we think there’s something you should know.”
John placed an old Bible on the chair in front of him. “This belonged to the Mitchums.”
“I know,” Matt replied, recognizing it. “Violet always kept it on a mantel in the drawing room, behind a glass case.”
Sara held out a tattered envelope. “Read this first. Then look at the page that’s bookmarked in the Bible.”
Matt took the envelope, but before he could ask any more questions, they turned and walked away.
Calley watched them leave. “Well, that was certainly mysterious.”
They were alone in the library, though Matt could still hear the chatter of voices in the foyer. He turned the envelope around and looked at the postmark. “This is dated one month after the fire. It’s from Violet to Charles.”
“Are you going to read it?”
He nodded, and Calley placed her hand on his knee. He pulled the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it, recognizing Violet’s neat, flowing script.
Matt read aloud.
“My darling Charles,
Yes, I forgive you. These past weeks have taught me that I love you too much to live without you. I’ve tried to spend all your money here in Dallas, but ended up buying both of us new wardrobes. Maybe that’s a sign that it’s time for us to start over.
I miss my home. And my horses. But most of all, I miss my husband. I won’t pretend that the betrayal didn’t hurt. But what hurt me even more was the fact that you kept it from me for so long. I believe you when you tell me you were too drunk to remember the incident yourself…but we both know it didn’t end there.”
Matt looked up from the letter as icy prickles of apprehension rose over the back of his neck. “I don’t think I want to read any more.”
“Shall I?” Calley asked softly, holding out her hand.
He hesitated, then gave her the letter.
“‘But we both know it didn’t end there,’” Calley continued, her quiet voice calming the storm brewing inside of him. “‘And as long as we’re both finally being honest with each other, I should tell you that some part of me always knew.’”
“Knew what?” he asked.
She glanced up at him, then turned her gaze back to the letter and took a deep breath. “‘I think that’s why Matt so easily captured my heart. Deep down inside I knew he was your son.’”
He closed his eyes. “No.”
Calley read silently for a few moments, then set the letter in her lap. “I think it’s true, Matt. According to the rest of the letter, one of the servants blamed you for setting the fire and wanted to call the police. Your mother came to Charles and begged him not to let it happen.”
“I think I can guess the rest,” he said flatly. “Violet overheard her tell Charles I was his son.”
Calley nodded. “The letter intimates that they were together only once, and that Charles was very drunk at the time.”
“So that’s why Violet ordered me out of her sight.” Matt rubbed one hand over his jaw. “Not only had I tried to burn down her house, she’d just discovered I was her husband’s bastard son.”
“I think you should listen to the last part of Violet’s letter,” Calley said, then began reading again.
“While I can freely forgive you, Charles, because I’ve never doubted your love for me, I don’t think I can ever forgive myself. In my pain, I lashed out at Matthew—the only innocent in all of this. Innocent of even starting the fire, according to that electrician’s report. Every time I remember the hurt I saw in his big brown eyes, it makes me cry.
Matthew is the son of your body and the son of my heart. We have to find him, Charles. I’m coming home to you today so we can begin the search. And begin our lives again.
Yours forever,
Violet.”
Matt picked up the Bible, then reverently opened the worn black leather cover. One by one, he turned the stiff pages until he came to one with the Mitchum family tree.
Calley trailed her finger down the page, then stopped near the bottom. “Matthew Todd Radcliffe, son of Charles Mitchum and Rita Radcliffe.”
“So it’s true,” he murmured, the shock finally beginning to fade. “And it explains so damn much. Todd Radcliffe wasn’t my real father. He must have known the truth when he married my mother. Maybe it’s one of the reasons he left us.”
“She never said anything to you?”
He shook his head. “Or to Charles, obviously, until the day of the fire. No wonder she was so adamant about us leaving in the dead of night.”
“Are you all right?” Calley whispered.
He nodded. “Just a little numb.”
Calley picked up the bulky envelope Dylan Garrett had given to him before the service. “Violet wrote a letter to you, too. Do you want me to read it?”
He took a deep breath, then nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.
She undid the clasp on the manila envelope, then reached inside and pulled out a single sheet of lavender stationery.
“‘My dearest Matthew,’” Calley began, holding the letter in front of her.
“If you’re reading this, it means I’ve found you at last. Charles and I searched for you all those years ago, but when we learned your mother had changed her name and was trying to start a new life, we thought it best to respect her wishes.
I’ve always wondered if we made the right decision. Just as I’ve wondered if you were ever able to forgive me.
You’re not responsible for that fire, Matt. Or for the cruel words I spoke that day. My heart was broken for an entirely different reason and I’m ashamed to say I took it out on you.
Please know that I love you and that Charles always loved you, too. If you look in the Mitchum family Bible, you may be better able to understand. But what’s most important to me is for you to know one thing. I would have given anything on this earth to be your mother. And no son could have made me prouder. I’m wearing the ring you gave me all those years ago. And I’ve already given instructions that I am to be buried with it. My life will end before long, but my love for you never will.”
